


Virus

by Rainbowraptor



Series: ZaDr Phase 3 [4]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Broken PAK (Invader Zim), Depression, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Second Person, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowraptor/pseuds/Rainbowraptor
Summary: Your name is Zim. You're an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you used to be an Irken Invader. You're not sure what you are now. Certainly not a food service drone. Your ID PAK isn't even labeled anymore. You aren't human even though you live on Earth, among them, in their society. Your name is ZIM. You’re an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you used to be an Irken Invader. You’re not sure…
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: ZaDr Phase 3 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838896
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	Virus

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for the Hurt/Comfort and Late Nights prompts from ZaDr Week 3 on Tumblr and...well, it seems like it's all hurt and late nights. Um, sorry? I'm also sorry for the weird tensing in the story, it's a bit all over the place, maybe it fits the tone of the story, I dunno.
> 
> Last things, I wrote this using second person perspective. Beware. It does feature a character dealing with some unsettling things, such as not being able to move.

**_Reactivating_ **

_ \----- _

_ Your name is Zim. You're an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You're not sure what you are now. Certainly not a food service drone. Your ID PAK isn't even labeled anymore. You aren't human even though you live on Earth, among them, in their society. Your name is ZIM. You’re an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You’re not sure… _

_ \------ _

You didn't go out today. You couldn't. It wasn't because the very idea of dragging yourself up and putting on your flimsy disguise to join the world beyond these walls revolts you so, though, that is actually true as well. Really, you’ve been having trouble finding the motivation to leave for weeks. You aren’t sure how many. This spell of aimlessness is the longest one since the truth of the Tallests’ fates finally stuck in your system. No, you couldn’t go out because you've woken from an unscheduled recharging session and can't move. 

You’re paralyzed. 

Your wetware (your biobody) doesn't respond to your attempts to move your arm, flick just one toe claw, or even turn your head. Your hardware (your PAK) refuses every single signal you attempt to send. You can hear your super organ moving, you’re alive, you’re functioning, you can hear your PAKs fans softly whir, click, feel it gently hum against you, as always. Yes, your senses are working. You see that you’re clearly laying on the tiled floor of your living room, between the couch and the television. You’re aware of the scent of disinfectant and the cool air. But you can't move.

You can, however, scream. So you do, loudly. 

"GIR!!!" You shout. “MINIMOOSE!” You yell.

Your throat is a little pained, it’s raspy, as if you’ve been in the heat for too long.

Nothing.

Swallowing, feeling your long tongue heavy but able to work, you try again.

“COMPUTER!” 

**“Yes?”** Asks a deep voice.

“Where is Gir, what’s happened? Why can’t I move?!” You’re not panicking. You are not panicking. Even as you try, once again, to move something other than your eyes and tongue. You’re an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  **_used_ ** to be an Irken Invader. You’re not sure…

_ No _ . You refuse to be pulled into error ridden commands or broken lines of thinking.  _ Focus. _

**“You told Gir and Minimoose to go spend some time with Gaz so you could work on your super secret project.”** The computer calmly informs you.  **“As to what happened...I’m...unsure. It seems my memory files have some corruption.”**

“What?” You say.

But the computer isn’t done.  **“Your PAK is still functional, your body is still functional. My scans show no problem with either. I don’t know what’s wrong. Perhaps if we simply reboot you maybe that will-”**

“NO!” You shout with such force you cough from the pain. The idea of being unconscious for even a second alarms you. You’re very afraid that, were you to turn off, you might not come back online. “We have to try something else, anything else.” You ponder and plot, half trying to find the cause of your predicament, half attempting to find a solution. It’s difficult to think when your face is so harshly resting on the hard floor. “Computer, pick me up and move me to the couch!” You hate how pathetic you feel with this request, it seems, beneath you. Even smeets are able to move where they please.

A moment passes. Another. Stil, no mechanical arms or long cables come to aid you. Your blood boils, your PAK hisses.

“COMPUTER?!” You snap. “This is no time for your attitude!!!” 

**“I...I can’t.”** The computer informs you.  **“I’m unable to move.”**

“LIES!” You hiss. You are NOT panicking. “SCAN YOURSELF!” You order. 

**“I did that already.”** The Computer says, tone taking on a worried edge. You don’t like it. It’s different and not in a stupid, silly way.  **“A million times while you were yelling at me. And another thousand more as I was talking. I can’t find anything wrong.”** Silence.  **“I don’t understand. This doesn't make sense.”**

You think. “Computer, contact Gir and Minimoose, tell them to return!” 

Silence. And then, the computer speaks. **“I...can’t do that either, all communications have been cut.”**

You scream your frustration out, full stop. You seethe with rage. You think,  _ think _ , trying to put together what has led to the point. For a week, you have been working on something, something important. You don’t recall what it is exactly and this angers you so much you hiss. Surely, the answer might be the key to this problem. 

“How long have I been out?” You ask.

**“I…”** The computer asks.

“How long have  _ we _ been out?” You ask again.

**“No more than a day.”** The Computer confessed. 

“Well, at least we know  _ that _ .” You say. “We were both offline for a day and our memories of the past week or so have been  _ tampered _ with oh, and WE CAN’T DO ANYTHING BUT TALK!!!” You snarl. Really, you aren’t panicking. OK, you  _ are _ but you aren’t an Irken Invader anymore so you can panic all you damn want. “Wait,” you hesitate. “You said Gir and Minimoose were supposed to be with Gazsister? Why would I send them  _ there _ ? To the home of the enemy?”

**“...Sir...the truce…”** The Computer coughs a little bit.  **“You do remember the truce...correct?”**

“AHAHA!” You laugh, some feeling of relief comes to you, ignoring the computer’s question. “IT’S THE DIB ISN’T IT! He’s done something to us, sent us a virus or some other foul thing!” You laugh again. “Of course, well, if  _ the Dib _ is behind this, Zim will easily find a way to stop this soon, don’t worry. The human is formidable but no match for an Irken Invad…” You used to be an Irken Invader...you aren’t sure what you are now. 

**“Sir, Dib and you have been...eh...allies for six years now. I can even remember that.”** The Computer says. The tone is one of worry and horror and confusion and pity?

Anger flames in you and you wheeze. “NO!” You say. “I’d never agree to work with that horrible, wretched-” but even as you say the words, there is a strange buzzing like that of white noise on the very tips of your antenna. The memory of laughing beside Dib right on the very couch you are prone close to, the faintest sensation of lips on yours. You remember feeling his big skinny, awkward hand holding your claw, seeing Dib’s amber eyes fixed onto your ruby ones, and a warm embrace holding you close. 

“Oh.” You say right before the blackness envelopes you again. 

**_Reactivating_ **

\-----

_ Your name is Zim. You're an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You're not sure what you are now. Certainly not a food service drone. Your ID PAK isn't even labeled anymore. You aren't human even though you live on Earth, among them, in their society. And you’ve fallen in love with a human, Dib. Irkens don’t feel love. Irken Invaders don’t give up their mission. You’ve done both. You must be defective. Your name is ZIM. You’re an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You’re not sure… _

\----

When you awake, you open your mouth to shout. You can’t, not anymore. You are breathing, alive, but you are no longer able to speak. What’s worse, the entire house is now dark, the curtainless windows let in the light of the street lamps outside and they cast terrifying shadows on the walls, on the floor where you lay, still, unable to move. There is a deep black void where the hallway used to be and another leading to the kitchen. You try not to stare at them but it’s difficult not too.  _ Dib, Dib, what has theDib done now, where is Gir, Minimoose, Computer!!  _ You wail inside your head. You know that Dib hasn’t done this, that your two minions are not here and that your Computer is now unable to talk as well. You are alone and helpless. 

And afraid. 

Your eyes are wet with tears. It seems you are able to do that much.

In the uncountable hours you’re unable to do anything else, you work your PAK and brain to try and find the cause. You know that Dib hasn’t betrayed you so what has happened? Again, you think of the big super secret project that feels so desperately important to you, what were you working on? What could’ve it been? Obviously, it hadn’t gone right. Impossible for  _ you _ to make a mistake so what happened? Maybe Dib was working alongside you and messed things up so he took off.  _ NO _ ! You think. Dib didn’t do this. You aren’t sure why but you know this to be true. It seems like the only thing you are sure of. Perhaps you were working on something and Dib infected you with some sort of virus- _ NO! NO! NO!!!!!  _ You scream in your head.

The darkness is growing in your base. Something seems to be shifting, churning in the black sea. You think you can hear footsteps coming from the corner, closer, closer. Can’t you hear whispering? 

Two long shadows appear...tall and dark, one has red eyes, the other purple. So many eyes. They glow in the inky shade. “Ahhhhh, look at you Zim.” They say as one. “Such a pity.”

You want to cry out. You do want. But can’t.

“Prove yourself to us and maybe you can rejoin us. Everything will be forgiven.” They say.

_ Yes, yes, anything. _ You plead from within yourself.

“Kill the Dib.” They order, somehow able to hear you. Of course they can, they are a part of the Mass, they know what you are thinking, what you are feeling, the Mass knows all, controls all, enslaves all, commands all.

_ No, not that, I won’t do that _ . You argue. 

Your PAK whirs, the black is growing, you feel yourself falling, falling offline. There is the pounding of your spooch, your brain, your PAK, you feel that this time might be the last time...the pounding grows worse...

BAM BAM BAM! 

Someone’s at the door, beating at it heavily.

“ZIM?” __

_ Dib, it’s Dib!  _ You want to hide, you want to get ready to fight, you want to throw open the door and hug him so tightly you’re sure you’d cause the human man internal injury but you can’t because YOU CAN’T MOVE. Your mind is sinking, you fight it, you’re an Irken Invader after all but-

BAM BAM BAM!

“Hey, Zim?! Let me in!!! What’s wrong? All your lights are off and it’s been two days!” 

You can’t move. You fight, you’re an Irken Invader after all. You  _ were _ an Irken Invader…

**_Reactiva-_ **

_ NO!!!!!  _ You scream inside yourself.  _ PLEASE NO!!!! _

“Alright, look, I haven’t been able to reach you on the phone, email, or even through gaming sooooooo, I guess that means...oh fuck it.”

SMASH.

The window next to the door shatters, a garden gnome lands close to you. You want to laugh and holler in glee. And again, when your Dib, your knight in a black trench coat, comes ambling through the window. “Ow.” He says as he cuts himself on one cheek. “Fuck.” And again as he no doubt slices his hand open. Dib stands straight and tall in the gloom. He’s back lit so he’s all shadows and maybe a bit horrifying. But you’ve never felt so much in love with the mangy, messy....

**_Reactivati-_ **

_ NO!!!  _

Dib, he’s looking at you now, you can tell, he’s moved so you can see him. Dib is by your side, crouching on the ground. He’s holding you now. Cradling you, one hand on your cheek, looking you over. He’s horrified. “No, no.” He says, a look of anger, frustration, sadness, terror, emblazoned on his face. “You opened their message didn’t you. Fuck it, Zim! Hey, Zim, Zim? Talk to me, call me stupid, anything, hey, Zim?”

Your sparking. Your PAK.

“Blink if you can hear me?” Dib pleads, cajoles, even insults you. “You fucking dumbass lizard, I’ll leave you here, I’ll-”

You can’t move your eyelids, nothing.

He picks you up, carries you like a human bride. Like he’s done before, for a joke and because you enjoy it. You love it now, even in your terror. “Fuck it, I’ll take you to Dad’s, use his lab. Don’t worry, it’s going to be OK, I’ll fix you, I promise. Whatever they sent, don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

You love the sensation of your face against his t-shirt, the smell of his terrible body wash, the tickle of his scruffy chin fur on your antenna. Dib is taking you to Professor Membrane’s house where you used to sleepover in the early days of your truce. Learning not to blow up the toilet, how to cook the perfect cookies, that Dib liked you too. That you loved him. You love him, your Dib. You’d tell him so, right now if you could, the idiot, the stupid, stinking idiot, you love-

**_Reactivating_ **

\----

_ Your name is Zim. You're an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You're not sure what you are now. Certainly not a food service drone. Your ID PAK isn't even labeled anymore. You aren't human even though you live on Earth, among them, in their society. And you’ve fallen in love with a human, Dib. Irkens don’t feel love. Irken Invaders don’t give up their mission. You’ve done both. You must be defective. You’re defective. You know this. The Control Brains of Irk themselves sent you a message. It’s official, now that you are fully aware of this. Your name is ZIM. You’re an Irken Invader. Or, at least, you  _ **_used_ ** _ to be an Irken Invader. You’re not sure what you are now. Certainly not a food service drone. Your ID PAK isn’t even labeled anymore. It’s time you fixed that. You’re defective, yes, but surely there’s more to you, here, on Earth, with Dib. It’ll take time and concentration but you’re sure you can do it.  _

_ Your name is Zim. _

_ \---- _


End file.
